


The Raven and the Shadow

by DefiantCandle17



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Realm Seven, Rh'llor the Shadowed One, Rising Fire Multiverse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-14
Updated: 2019-09-14
Packaged: 2020-10-18 17:01:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20642600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DefiantCandle17/pseuds/DefiantCandle17
Summary: Connected with the Fall of Ice and Rise of Fire Series, dubbed FOIROF.The Night King strides forth to slay the Bloodraven, and an encounter between old enemies reveals how high the stakes truly are, should the Shadowed One succeed in his unholy goal, and the Raven be ensnared in his grasp...Warning: Changing of a beloved character's death to be more heroic and more badass.





	The Raven and the Shadow

**Author's Note:**

> This was just something I felt like doing after a long day at work. I noticed a lot of parallels between Max Von Sydow's death in GOT and the Force Awakens, and because I am a huge Star Wars hack, I made this piece for fun, which may or may not be canon with my ongoing FOIROF series!
> 
> Other influences include Berserk the Golden Age Arc and Hellblade: Senua's Sacrifice! Let me know if you find them!
> 
> Please let me know what you all think! I am posing on FF.Net under Defiant Candle but may repost here, as apparently according to dragonanddirewolf, wife of DracoFireIgnis- read his stuff because it is amazing- Jonerys fans are more likely to congregate here! 
> 
> Stay tuned!

_“By my life... by my honour...by my love...I defend you to the end!”_

Summer snarled and leapt head-first into the slavering wights, teeth bared, claws unsheathed, placing himself against the hordes

His jaws found a wight’s neck and its’ head clean from his shoulders.

Quick as lightning, he spun and tore another’s arm from the shoulder, then the leg, then the cords of an undead’s neck.

Wheeling about to protect his flank, Summer brought his teeth to bare upon the rotting undead.

Their axes and swords and dirks fell upon him.

Some missed. Others hit their mark, scoring bloody furrows into his flesh, marking his auburn tinged snowy fur.

Raging through the shear agony, Summer snarled and kept ripping into the undead horde. Blood of his own, blood of the undead, the wolf’s jaws were their bane and he struck and tore and ripped, until they were crawling about and twitching at his feet, slain and crippled by his unbound power.

_“Summer...”_

The raven spoke, both bound to the roots of the weirwood and liberated by its power, pleading for the young wolf’s life.

_“You did not have to stay...”_

_“I stay...”_ Summer growled, limping from wounds that cut tendon and cracked bone, the blood of his own life on his tongue, the flesh of the wights jarred in his teeth.

_“Because my heart is for Bran, and the survival of my family.” _

And he that once watched history drift easily by him like a stream, seeing all and watching the tides of destiny and fate flow, ebb and rise, diminish and dawn, known as Bloodraven, the old greenseer and sage of the Children, was moved in his heart.

_“You are a noble wolf... Summer of the Stark pack.” _

_“I thank you, greenseer.”_ Summer growled in assent. Already his limbs trembled from effort, and his body pained when he breathed. His time was coming, but his teeth would slay more dead ones yet.

_“Buy him time…buy my brother time.” _ The bloodraven did hear the wolf’s resolute vow to carry him unto death, and knew that Summer’s time had come.

Then the white walkers came forth from the rooted tunnel, beneath hearth where sanctuary would soon become a barrow.

And the bloodraven saw with admiration that Summer had not yet tested the mettle of his teeth against the cold one’s icy flesh, but in his heart, was more than willing to see if their winter skin could hold to the might of his jaws.

Then they parted, and forward came a cold one radiating something that was truly Other. Beyond what was natural or good.

The cold one named the Night’s king, crowned with icy shards upon his brow, and upon his back, a sword of long handle and thick of cyan blade.

The blood raven watched helpless as the night king stood before him, mute as death with the presence of undeniable eerie malevolence.

Then the malevolence stepped out of the night kings shadow, and the blood raven felt true fear in his old green bones.

_“Summer- run! You cannot match him!” _The bloodraven did strive to warn his erstwhile guardian.

_“I am of House stark- I do not run from darkness... but face it down with all my might!” _

So howled Summer and with lupine howl, opened his lips to reveal blackened fangs of crushing death and flew towards the King of Night.

The shadow lifted his hand and hardened to a fist, and Summer was held in the air. The noble direwolf snapped and clawed futilely at the shadow’s tall form, but struck not its ashen flesh.

And so ended noble and brave Summer, who held against the undead in defending Bran and the Raven that was. The shadow closed his fist and Summer’s life gave out with a snap of his neck.

The wolf hung limp in mid air, un-moving and still, and was cast aside, cruelly and callously. His great body fell, and breathed no more, his destiny fulfilled and his life given gladly to save his brother.

His last thoughts saw little Bran climbing and laughing on the stables, and of him barking at him to come down...

Then came gentle silence...

Emboldened by bloodlust, he that was the demon lord ascendant and dark god of Asshai stepped forth, and the blood raven marked him.

Spoke he the fiend, the shadow within the heart of the night’s king.

**“Look how old you have become...”**

The bloodraven had accepted his imprisonment long ago, as was the price for the gift of the Sight and knew that the fiend spoke not of his latest host’s withered form, but of the spirit residing within.

He had passed on all that he had known to the wolf that flew, that much he had known. He would meet his end with peace in his heart.

“Something far worse has happened to you.” The bloodraven returned with equal heartiness.

**“Something worse? Old fool…” **The fiend did snarl and grin with steel jagged fangs back at the bloodraven.

**“Must we have this conversation, everytime we fight, everytime we clash. Everytime my sword strikes down another of your avatars? Another host liberated from your timeless curse, parasite!” **The ashen fiend spat, venom and black bile in his teeth, sizzling as it fell upon the verdant soil untouched by winter.

“**I have embraced the blessing that has come with the gift of shadow, of the servants of Asshai. I have ascended, and taken my place as their leader and god. Against me and my power, you have and always will be an impotent, whimpering old man.”**

The shadow turned, and with hands clasped behind his narrow form, paced as he arraigned himself to interrogate the raven.

The night king stood silent, and his hand touched not his hull blade, as the Shadow paced to the left, and to his right, his form intangible and unfathomable, yet all too real, and all too wrong.

**“The three eyed raven. You have chosen a boy to walk the path of the greenseer. A new shaman of the weirwoods.”**

He turned and paced silently to his right, his feigned patience belying his sadistic, sanguineous heart.

**“And now you will surrender him to me. Or I hunt him down and bind him to my service. It makes no difference to me... I will have you tell me his design or rip it from your mind.”**

The bloodraven’s fear was over him like a pallor, but not for himself but for his young student was who his heart was racked in despair for.

So like his wolf he too hoped to buy him time.

“Night king!” The bloodraven spoke to the spiked warrior, chieftain of the white walkers.

“The shadow who has thee in his thrall...he arose from ash and madness... you did not. Surely you cannot see that he seeks to wield you like a pawn then cast you aside as though you were nothing? As he plans for all of his servants!”

**“He...cannot be reached, old man.” **

The shadow stepped in front of him.

**“But I will show you... ash and madness.”**

Knowing his dark prophecy, of his plans of that time and that place, a storm of fire and death, and the destruction of the old and the rise of hellfire unending, the Bloodraven harkened only to the last gift of the Sight. A message sent forth from a time ahead, not of the past, but of beyond.

Beyond the dark days was where a dream lay. The Dream of a broken man…

“You can try...” the blood raven boldly challenged.

“But you cannot deny the prophecy...that was the Interstice.”

The shadow’s red cinder eyes did widen in fear, mortal heart clenching fear, so deep in its piercing that it made him step back once in recoiling.

Then with a guttural snarl, he that was the demon, of shadow made flesh turned his back to the raven.

**“Do it.” **

The night king followed as was bade, and drew his hull blade forth.

In the vision the raven spoke to his apprentice, in the courtyard of Winterfell where they had become trapped through time when the armies of the Night attacked.

_“My apprentice, you have learned so much, and have given me hope. All that I am, my gift, my power, I give to you. Willingly.”_

He looked to the Wolf who flew, dressed in his stark brown leather, a man grown. Young and bare in face compared to his wrinkled bearded own.

_“You must go...leave me... find the Truth. Find it and act as the Interstice spoke.”_

_“Harken thou to the grief of the Burnt king!” _

And to Benjen, unbeknownst to Brandon, he who wielded the thurible of fire and was the man who died but did not turn, he who was Cold Hands, he cried in warning.

_“The time to save two Starks has come. Two winged starks, one with raven wings, one with dragon wings! _

_“Save the first and strike his foes with fire.”_

_“Save the second, and give all of yourself to light and fire of the dawn. Stave off the undead! And spirit the wolf back to his dragon queen!”_

_“Save the winged wolf so he may avail the wolf of dragon blood in his time of darkness.” _

_“Save them! Save them all!”_

And the night king’s blade arced through, and cleaved the old master’s heart and chest in Twain, but he has left a long time ago. For his soul was with his predecessors, and they were amongst bran, as Meera dragged him to safety, shepherded by the leader of the Children, mottled and grey and green, Leaf.

* * *

**“After him!”** The shadow snapped at the wights, after warily eyeing the severed chest of his foe.

**“Kill everyone in your way. The children...those wretched feykind- rip them apart and bathe in their guts! I want the young wolf’s head, the seat of his soul!**

**"Find him and bring him to me! Now!”**

* * *

So ends our brief tale of the Raven and the Shadow. For this encounter was but a tale told again and again, of two strange beings locked in conflict to alter destiny and fate since the days of old Valyria.

The Interstice was but the blade shattering what was thought to be set in stone, but is now rent like glass.

The Burnt King’s Warning must hinder the ploy of the Shadowed One.

He must save her…

Or all is lost.


End file.
